


Cygnus

by Sophisticated_Adult



Series: We Mapped The Stars [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Other, baby dorks, sparkling theorycrafting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophisticated_Adult/pseuds/Sophisticated_Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was...something at first sight, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cygnus

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't actually the prequel I had in mind. It is, instead, a pre-pre-prequel, because I am weak and cannot resist the baby Hot Rod.
> 
> (Considering bringing the dude back as a Wrecker for maximum awkward later, y/n?)

Arcee picked the box over, carefully inspecting every scrap of waste metal for anything that might be sellable. She’d be content even with anything that was brightly coloured or had a pleasing texture; those she could keep for herself, or might come in useful for trading with other street-sparks later. But everything was almost uniformly grey; metallic, ordinary grey no-one would look twice at. If something was brightly coloured then it was that way for a reason; someone cared enough to differentiate it from the norm, and so it would be less likely to be thrown away.

That was how it was.  


She blinked up at the sound of nearby footsteps, dimmed optics lighting up the narrow alleyway for all that they were at the lowest setting they could go. Concealment over convenience. This was a good spot, and others would be coming by to pick through the recycling and trash of the night before the disposal units arrived. She’d gotten here early but hadn’t had a chance to go through it thoroughly enough for her liking. She’d already filled her subspace with bits to go through later, and it looked like the best haul of the night was going to be a jagged piece she hoped might be green or brown – it seemed darker than the others - that looked like a factory cast-off. 

Two figures appeared at the alleyway entrance. One looked her height, possibly her age or thereabouts, the other – her spark stilled. Half as much, if that. A youngspark.

Even in the gloom of Cybertron’s off-shift he seemed to stand out, as much as he clung to his older protector, who jealously held him back. 

“Back off, femme, we need this stuff more than _you_ do.”

“Of course.” She stepped down. A fight would be pointlessly stupid unless she wanted to claim the little one for herself – a thought that was briefly, intensely tempting. Younglings were – in normal circumstances – social creatures, and there were few things they enjoyed more than caring for one younger than themselves; it made them feel big, important, like they mattered. Besides that, a youngspark was a ticket to privileges that lone, street-sparked younglings on the older end of the scale – like herself – wouldn’t normally have a hope of seeing.

As she was demonstrating. 

Arcee smiled at the little one as she passed them on her way out, ignoring the older one’s burning glare. Who cared about that when that bright blue gaze was, however temporarily, fixed on her like she was the whole world?

To her utter delight, a soft, tiny smile was given back, right before the elder went “ _humpf,”_ and dragged him forward to a prize that, suddenly, didn’t seem so valuable.


End file.
